


a captain, a father

by boyvidae



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, just about davenport's relationship with his kids (and his science officer), some brief mentions of abuse/loss/sad stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 10:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyvidae/pseuds/boyvidae
Summary: Davenport never would have considered himself the fatherly type. He wasn't a father after all. He was a captain, and an academic, and, at heart, an explorer. “Father” hadn't fit into any of those categories, at least at the time he launched the Starblaster into a new plane of reality.But as the cycles dragged on, the repetition continued, and Davenport felt the role was almost thrust upon him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> most of these are meant to take place in the first half of SC, probably around year 25 or so. this is one of my first taz fics so let me know if you liked it!
> 
> potential triggers: davenport notices how thin taako is.

Davenport never would have considered himself the fatherly type. He _wasn't_ a father after all. He was a captain, and an academic, and, at heart, an explorer. “Father” hadn't fit into any of those categories, at least at the time he launched the Starblaster into a new plane of reality.

But as the cycles dragged on, the repetition continued, and Davenport felt the role was almost thrust upon him.

Merle was a natural. He was the oldest on the crew, even by dwarven standards, and being a healer had given him the caring, nurturing nature a father needed. Davenport didn't have such confidence. He was a captain, yes, and a leader. But his crew started to look at him less like a captain and more like... family.

He wasn't bitter about it, not at all. He loved his crew. He was coming to know them intimately. It just... wasn't a role he had been expecting to take when he took on this mission.

But then again, he hadn't been expecting _any_ of this when he took on this mission.

He was thinking about all this, because Taako's shirt had a tear in it.

It was somewhat small, along the seam that ran up his side, fabric tendrils waving as he moved within the kitchen. Despite it's insignificant size, it bothered Davenport for multiple reasons.

He had torn it on a recon mission outside of the ship, while fleeing some particularly unfriendly inhabitants. That was troubling. But now he was _still_ wearing it, the next day. That, too, was troubling. And what _particularly_ troubled Davenport, was that he was even _noticing_.

It wasn't his place to worry over something so small, but he couldn't help to. It was infuriating. Worry for his crew was one thing. But Taako was safe. Nothing about the situation should bother him.

Davenport took a long, long drink out of his coffee.

“Hey there, Cap'n, need something stronger?” Taako lilted from the counter, leaning back and observing him with that loose smile. These quiet morning moments, Davenport found himself cherishing them. He and Taako occasionally were the first ones to rise, and Davenport sipped his coffee and planned the day while Taako started breakfast. It didn't take long for Lup or Lucretia to join them, but for the first few minutes of the day, he was alone with the elf. And it was nice.

“You're wearing that same shirt from yesterday.” Davenport said, mentally cursing himself, but careful to keep his features even. Taako raised a brow, glancing down at himself with a light grunt.

“Guess I am. Didn't think you'd notice, Cap'n'port. Must look good on me.” Taako couldn't have missed the way Davenport's tail twitched irritably, and it was obvious by the elf's toothy grin.

“You tore it yesterday. That's how I know.” He gestured to the tear, and Taako fiddled with it without looking, turning back to flip a pancake.

“Oh yeah, that. Yeah, well. Whatever, y'know? Sometimes you wear the same shit. No biggie.” His long ears were stiff, pinned close to his head, a clear indication to Davenport. Taako was careful, even after all these years, to keep his emotions to himself, but his ears always gave him away. “I'll, uh, get rid of it later. I guess.”

He wouldn't, and Davenport knew it. It was something he and Lup both did- nothing was thrown away, not unless it was used to its absolute limit. Clothing thread-bare, shoes worn into scraps and _food_ \- they'd rather make themselves sick than throw it away. And he knew why. But they didn't need to do that anymore. Sure, Davenport could always appreciate people who knew how to conserve and use resources, but not to such an unnecessary extreme.

Davenport caught his attention with a flick of his tail, and Taako turned back around, his face more neutral compared to his smile before. It hurt the gnome a bit- Taako's trust was hard to earn and easy to lose. But he pushed forward.

“I can help fix it.” He said, and Taako's ears jumped up, interest piqued, though his expression remained the same.

“You can sew?” He asked, slightly incredulous. Davenport drained the rest of his coffee and hopped down from his seat, brushing the lapels of his jacket and straightening up before he continued. He didn't miss the way Taako rolled his eyes, lips twitching.

“Certainly. These little hands aren't just good for steering.” His tail swished good-naturedly, and Taako let out a squawk of surprised laughter. He obediently shucked off his shirt when Davenport held out his hand, and the captain couldn't help but notice how thin the young elf was. He always was, yes, it wasn't unusual- clear lines dividing his ribs and deep valleys in his collarbone- but something about it made Davenport's lips purse a bit. By the end of any given cycle, assuming the world was productive that way, he usually ended up with a healthy layer of padding. But then the Hunger would strike, and he'd be back to being almost sickly thin again.

Davenport cleared his head, taking only a moment after being handed the shirt, and they were soon crowded around the table together, while Taako's mage hand kept breakfast on track.

He showed him how to thread the needle, watching the way his cat-like pupils widened and rounded, intent on his movement. His lips pursed in concentration when Davenport showed him to trim the remaining threads and push the needle into the fabric. And his hands were already flitting over Davenport's after the first few stitches, eager to try himself.

The touch made them both pause, but only for a moment. Taako offered him something he may have called a grimace on anyone else, but a shy smile on the elf. Davenport pulled away, allowing Taako to take the needle and attempt it himself.

His stitches were only slightly less neat than Davenport's, only causing some mild wrinkling in the fabric. He would expect nothing less from the brilliant elf, in spite of the way he always played himself the fool.

Davenport wouldn't have selected him for the mission if he wasn't sure of his abilities.

The tear wasn't big. It only took a few minutes until Davenport was showing him how to cleanly knot and trim the thread.

Taako eagerly held up the shirt, examining the once-tear and running his fingers along it, like it was a new treasure he could horde away. He slipped it on and tugged at the edge experimentally, then gave Davenport a little twirl, arms lifted.

“How's it lookin', Dav?” He almost purred the words. Or, _was_ that an elusive elf purr? Taako's eyes were narrowed pleasantly, his ears relaxed and loose as he swung from side to side.

“Excellent.” Davenport beamed back at him, his tail swishing gently. He could feel the way his own ears had pressed back joyfully. Something about seeing the elf so wholly happy had warmed his chest.

“You'll have to teach me more of that.” He was saying now, still engaged with Davenport, his mage hand unmoving over the stove.

“Of course, Taako, whenever you'd like.” Davenport hadn't thought anything of it. But Taako's faint purr died in his throat for a moment, eyes blinking wider. It was a surprisingly naked expression for Taako, open and almost fearful.

“Thanks, Davenport.” He said, sincerely. “That... means a lot.” He almost seemed to choke on the words, and Davenport's tail stilled.

Taako wasn't one to be touched- he initiated anything he wanted, and that was limited- but Davenport couldn't help reaching out, patting a gentle hand on to his forearm. He expected the elf to turn away, play it off with an annoyed laugh and return to his neglected stove top. But he didn't.

They were still for a moment together, Taako's skin warm under Davenport's hand, the soft purr in his throat again.

Davenport could do this, he thought. This wasn't hard. This felt... natural. The way Taako was looking at him, something like mild surprise, like he was shocked Davenport cared, the similar look he gave Merle. That almost bothered him. He shouldn't be surprised. He should know this. He should know they all cared about each other, they- they were _family_.

Taako's purr faded as they heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and he slipped out of Davenport's gentle grasp to return to the counter.

Lup bounced into the room with a playful salute to Davenport before accosting her brother eagerly.

“Your shirt! It's fixed.” She noticed almost immediately- she was perceptive that way- and ran her fingers along the seam the same way Taako had. Her twin couldn't suppress his smug grin.

“That's right. Ch'boy's a regular seamstress now.” Lup cackled, hip-checking him out of the way to take over some of his cooking.

That was when Taako glanced back at Davenport- face even and safe again, but the look was enough. Davenport twitched an ear his way, and hopped up to get himself another cup of coffee.

Today would be a good day.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of blood/injury and vague mentions of abuse.

“ _Fu-_!” Davenport's ears twitched frantically as Lup's voice disappeared from behind him. Whirling around, he couldn't even see where the elf had been standing in the thick jungle they were trekking through. The foliage seemed to have all but swallowed her whole.

“Lup?” He called, walking a few paces back to where he thought she had been moments before.

“I'm okay!” Her voice was faint, distant, but Davenport had a vague idea where she was now, pushing leaves the size of himself out of the way until he nearly lost his footing.

“Careful, Captain!” She called up to him, coming into view in a crumpled heap at the bottom of a steep slope. “Shit's slippery.” Davenport's heart pounded as he wound his way slowly down the slope, gripping roots and rocks as he went.

Lup had barely stirred once he finally reached the bottom, but she had watched him intently all the while. Water sloshed around their feet. It was hardly ever _not_ raining here. She was covered in mud, hair unfortunately mussed and full of various debris.

“No offence, Dav, but it would have been _really_ funny to see you tumble down that thing. Couldn't have given a dying woman one last laugh?” Davenport didn't chuckle at that, and she frowned. “Hey, relax. You know how this works.”

“You aren't dying.” He said. “You just fell down a hill.” He was studying her carefully without touching. She seemed okay, outwardly. Roughed up and filthy, yes, but all things seemed in working order. No limbs jarringly out of place that he could see.

But Davenport could smell the blood, his sensitive nose wrinkling at the metallic tang. He helped Lup sit up against a thick, smooth tree as gently as he could. Lup was ferocious and wild, but now she was whimpering softly, even with Davenport going as slowly as he could.

“Do you know where you're hurt?” He asked, wiping at some of the mud on her face. Merle should be here, he thought angrily. This was supposed to just be a simple scouting mission, and Magnus had already been injured by some of the local wildlife, so Merle stayed behind to continue tending to him. The boy would have been fine, if he hadn't been so intent on wrestling every big cat he saw.

“My head, my dude.” Lup said, lifting a weak hand to brush back her sodden hair, revealing an ugly gash along her temple and back into her scalp. It was definitely the source of the blood, hidden by the muck, diluted by water. “God dammit.” She cursed softly, dropping her hand into her lap. Her fingers were shaking. “It's so fucking early. Taako's gonna be hella pissed.”

“You _aren't_ dying.” Davenport reminded her, dropping his bag on to the ground and beginning to root through it. He wasn't a fool- he wouldn't leave the ship without a survival kit, Gods forbid anything like this happened.

He poured water over the cut to clear it up and get a better look at it. Lup winced, but didn't seem to have the energy to pull away. Once most of the mud had been cleared, Davenport encouraged her to drink the rest of the water and began applying pressure to the cut.

“Head wounds bleed a lot.” He explained absently. “They always seem worse than they actually are. You'll probably be concussed, but it's nothing you can't come back from.”

“I know.” Lup said quietly. It made Davenport's ear twitch and focus in on her. She was rarely so quiet. “I know, I know. I've had my head whacked open before. It's nasty.”

“What cycle was that?” He asked. Keeping up a conversation was a good sign, even with her evident weakness.

“No cycle. Before all this.” She said, barely audible. Davenport kept his hand steady on her head, and wiped more mud from her cheeks with the other. Lup blinked up at him, lips twitching. “I must look like a real shit monster, huh?”

“A bit.” He conceded, and Lup's laughter was airy and paper-thin. “Keep drinking.” He encouraged, and she obeyed.

When there was silence for a few moments, Davenport thought to fill them.

“When I was a child, I used to have a swing set.” Lup's ear twitched in recognition. “I would swing as high as I could, and pretend I was flying.” That earned him another frail chuckle. “Once, I fell off, and I split my head open like this. I thought I was dying, too.” Lup's fingers had wound weakly into his jacket, smearing the golden buttons with grime.

“Calling me a child, Davenpop?” Her eyes were half-lidded, and Davenport gave her a sharp pat on the cheek to rouse her. “I didn't fall or anything.” She continued, ears so low they nearly touched her shoulders. She was starting to purr weakly, an attempt to comfort herself. “I- I dropped something. I can't remember what now. But it broke.”

“Something glass? You cut yourself?” Davenport searched for the most pleasant option, but he wasn't ignorant. Lup shot him a knowing look, surprisingly sharp despite her shaking breaths.

“Nah, Cap. Ugh. Was it a cousin-? Or an uncle? I don't know. He wasn't happy. He... y'know.” Davenport pulled the gauze away to check the wound. The bleeding had begun to slow, from what he could tell. Lup's voice had trailed off, and she didn't seem intent to continue. Davenport started wrapping her head, trying to move her as little as possible. His lips were tightly pressed together, brow furrowed as he absorbed what Lup said.

“I'd have some words for him, if I ever met him.” Davenport told her as he wrapped. She laughed, sounding a little stronger, despite her pallid face.

“Just some words? Is that an old gnomish expression for whoopin' ass?” He smirked at that.

“Perhaps.” He was still a captain. He couldn't go around saying he'd kill anyone who had done her wrong in the past. He taped up the wrapping, making sure it was secure, before looking over the rest of Lup with the utmost care. He didn't want to miss anything now that the main concern had been taken care of.

She seemed to be improving already, colour returning to her face, her breath evening out. Davenport applied gentle pressure to her joints, checking for sprains, eyeing over any nasty scrapes that he would make sure to alert Merle to once they returned to the ship.

Finally, he cleared some last streaks of muck from her forehead. Lup's eyes squeezed shut appreciatively.

“You're one of the good ones, you know.” She said simply. Davenport only raised a brow. “We've never had good people like you in our lives. So... thanks, I guess.” Lup tried to get up. The mud sucked at her feet as she attempted to get them under her, and Davenport didn't waste time forcing her back down, leaning her against the tree.

“Relax. Give yourself more time.” He said. He wasn't sure how to respond to the rest. The thought of the twins- out on their own, no one but each other to rely on, and only children at that.

Elves were children for such a long time.

Davenport found himself angry again. Why hadn't anyone been there for them? Had their paths ever crossed? Had Davenport ever caught sight of two elven children darting between caravans? Had they ever pilfered his pockets without him ever knowing? He wished he had been there- he would have if he had known. If only he had known then.

“Captain?” Lup's voice brought him back into the moment. She was gripping his jacket again, stronger, with purpose. “I think I can stand.”

It was slow, getting her up to her full height. She grasped at her sides as she did, letting out pained breaths and leaning against the tree, but she was standing.

“I told you, you weren't going to die.” Davenport said, perhaps even with a smug twitch of his tail. Lup sneered back, eyes a bit glassy with pain. “I wouldn't let that happen.” He added, and he hoped Lup understood.

Davenport was great at giving orders and making plans. He was less great at speaking openly about more personal matters.

Somehow, the message needed to get across. He cared for her, for all of them. More than he had ever cared before, it felt.

Lup seemed to understand, blinking placidly back at him before focusing back to the task at hand.

“O-kay, Cap'n'port. If you're so sure of yourself, tell me how we're supposed to get back up that hill.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> features animal death

Sometimes, Davenport couldn't stand Magnus.

He had hired the boy- the man- the _human_ for a reason.

The Starblaster ran on bonds, and Magnus made bonds like Istus stitched them Herself. He had made fast friends with everyone on board, even reclusive Taako and Lucretia. It helped that he was a cool six and a half feet of raw power, too.

But sometimes that all was forgotten when he did something so _stupid_ \- so _asinine_ \- so-

This cycle had been fine. Peaceful. The civilization was very similar to the one back home, if a bit less advanced. The only difference was that all races had been replaced with animals who stood on two legs and spoke as though they were human or otherwise. That wouldn't have been so strange, Davenport and his crew had seen much worse in their travels so far.

It was just strange that they still farmed other animals.

Animals that were like _regular_ animals, yes- four legs for some, grunts and growls, an urge for sleeping and eating and little else- but still. Strange.

All that was far in the back of Davenport's mind now, as he watched Magnus' bright jacket disappear into the blazing inferno that had once been a barn. He could only shout- more like a scream-

“ _MAGNUS!_ ”

The man had found work on this farm. It was work he took great pride in, he liked every moment of it. Somewhere he could put his skills to work.

“I grew up on a farm.” He had explained one afternoon, whittling a stick as he and Davenport watched the sheep graze. “My grandpa- he raised me. Well, the farm raised me, really.” He had chuckled, run a blistered hand through his hair. Davenport had curled his tail around Magnus' ankle in response.

And now, he had just sprinted into the barn- _hardly_ a barn any more, the visible wood had been rendered completely black, the skeleton of the building beginning to give into the tongues of flame that flickered around it- probably to rescue _animals_.

Lup was attempting to contain the blaze, but it was a lost cause. Lucretia watched anxiously at Davenport's side, hand to her mouth, frantically focused on what had been the entrance of the barn.

Agonizing seconds passed.

He would be fine, Davenport told himself. Even if he died here, he would be fine.

But it didn't make it any easier.

“Alright, I'm going in. I'm getting that fool.” Lup said, shucking her own jacket and striding forward. Taako latched on to her wrist, and they fought, loudly.  
"Let go!"

"Just because he's going to get himself killed being a moron, doesn't mean you have to, too!"

"He needs our _help_ -"  
"He _needs_ a new _brain_!"

"He's our br-"

“There!” Lucretia shouted.

Magnus was stumbling out of the barn, something gathered in his arm. The crew swarmed him, dragging him away from the blaze as he coughed and fell to his knees. They patted out the small fires that had started on his body. Most of the hair on his face was scorched away, including his scraggly sideburns, which had burnt to a crisp.

“I got one... I got one...” He gasped, hacking up black spittle between his shaking breaths. In his arms was a calf, small and struggling, long legs flailing weakly. “I got you, buddy, I got you.” He told it, shifting it in his arms to hold it more securely in his lap.

The baby's breath was laboured, eyes frantic and bloodshot. Magnus tried to soothe it, running his fingers along its cheek.

“You're safe, you're safe.” He told it, voice strained. “You're going to be okay, I got you.”

The calf took another shuddering breath, and completely stilled in his arms.

Magnus stared down, shock etched in every line of his face, visible even through the soot.

“Breathed in too much smoke.” Lup said with a grimace, and looked away. Magnus gave the calf a little shake, as though it could breathe life into blackened lungs, but it didn't stir.

“I... but I got it out...” He was saying, so soft it was barely audible over the roar of the fire. “I saved you. I...” Tears were starting to stream down his face, leaving clean track marks down his cheeks.

“Shit.” Merle grunted. Davenport silently agreed.

They watched the barn burn itself out, the frame collapsing in a spectacular show of embers that poured into the night sky. Magnus sobbed softly between them.

“Let's get back to the ship.” Davenport said. The farmer, a cattle dog, was a distance away, mournfully watching the remains of his livelihood and speaking to the local militia. They were shooting glances at the strange visitors, and Davenport had a bad feeling stirring in his gut. “You all, go on ahead, fill Barry in.”

Taako was the first to move, grabbing Lup's hand again and pulling her towards the ship. She went reluctantly, glancing back at Magnus as they left. Lucretia rubbed gentle circles into Magnu's singed and shaking back, but eventually obeyed, and Merle ambled after her.

Once the group had thinned, the militia seemed more confident in approaching. The sheriff, an imposing hippo with a body about as wide as Davenport was tall, strode towards them, and loomed.

“Can we help you, officer?” Davenport cut in before the mammal could speak to Magnus, who was still curled around his failed rescue. The hippo glanced over him almost dismissively, and Davenport forced himself not to bristle or stiffen his tail. Back home, that wasn't always common body language others could pick up on. But here, it was almost a second language.

“I'd like to ask Burnsides some questions.” The sheriff's teeth were huge, jagged- he could swallow Davenport without much effort. “Cattle Dog seems to think he was the last one in the barn tonight.”

“I have six alibis for him at the ready.” Davenport said, unwilling to be intimidated by the overgrown pig. The captain had seen beings bigger than him, and hadn't been scared then, either. “They'd all say he was with us all evening, well before the fire began.” It was the truth. Magnus had nothing to do with this. If his broken sobs weren't enough evidence.

The hippo's nostrils flared- together they were probably the same size as Davenport's head- and took a step forward, towering over the gnome.

“You're strangers here. Your word counts for nothing.” He rumbled, hot breath washing over Davenport. He didn't flinch. He gathered himself up, into his chest, for an extra inch of height, and cleared his throat.

“I suggest you step back.” He said. The sheriff's beady eyes widened, and the pair of uniformed coyotes behind him gaped at each other. The hippo's ears laid flat against his head, and Davenport mimicked him, narrowing his eyes and staring, unblinking, back at him.

“We're going to take him into custody.” The sheriff said, without breaking their eye contact.

“You'll have to go through me.” Davenport responded, and one of the coyotes squawked in shock.

The sheriff finally looked away- by leaning back to laugh.

“Then we'll take you b-” He didn't get to finish his sentence, when Davenport reached up and grasped the two gnarled tusks he called bottom teeth with Mage Hand, and yanked him down to his level. For a moment, Davenport saw a flicker of fear in his black eyes.

“You'll leave, now. The source of the fire is in that barn somewhere, and it has nothing to do with the boy.” Davenport almost growled the words, nearly leaning on the hippo's massive nose. He considered, for a moment, casting an illusion to truly strike some fear into the militia.

But he didn't need to.

His power came through in his posture and his confidence, and the sheriff was easing out of his magic grip now, clearing his throat with a nervous shake of his shoulders. The coyotes had already begun to make their way back to the caravan, tails tucked neatly between their legs.

“We'll- We'll be seeing you in the morning.” The hippo said, smoothing the lapels on his uniform as if it would help him, and followed in the stead of his colleagues.

Davenport sat next to Magnus.

He was still crying. Soft wails. He had folded his knees up to his chest, and pressed his face into the charred corpse of the calf.

“I'm so glad you're okay.” Davenport breathed after a long while, once the night had begun to creep back in, swallowing up the dying embers and hiding away the skeleton of the once-barn. Magnus had quieted beside him, only sniffling now. “You scared me.”

“What's it matter?” He responded, and Davenport's ear twitched in response. “I couldn't even save one of them.” He stretched his legs out, and ran his hand over the short fur of the calf. He sniffed loudly, rubbing at his face and smearing snot and tears into the grime. “Not one.”

“You can't save everyone.” Davenport said softly, placing a hesitant hand on his side. “You have to be more careful.”

“I have to try!” He shouted, snapping the silence of the night. “I have to- If we don't try, what are we?” He demanded, turning to look at Davenport with a fire in his weary, red-rimmed eyes. “If I die saving someone- something- then, so be it.” Magnus hung his head with a shuddering breath.

“We should go to the ship. Merle should see you.” Davenport said instead. Magnus let out something like a laugh, but it was bitter and twisted.

“I'm fine. I'm okay.” He got to his feet with a groan, and Davenport scrambled to stand with him. “I have to- I need to- I want to bury her.” He was still clutching the calf close to him, swaying on his feet, eyes unfocused.

Davenport put a steadying hand on his hip- the highest he could reach- and gave him an affirming squeeze.

“I'll bury her.” He said. Magnus blinked down at him in surprise. “I want you looked at, and then I want you on strict bed rest for the next 24 hours. I'll bury her.” Davenport lifted his chin, making sure Magnus understood that was an order from his captain.

He was still looking at him like he was dumbfounded, but he knelt, setting the calf on the cold grass. Impossibly slow and gentle.

“Farmer let me name her.” He said quietly, passing a thumb over its forehead. “Clover.” Magnus hovered over the calf for a few moments longer, breathing heavily through his nose.

Davenport could only watch.

He had hired him for a reason. He brought him on board for that huge, bleeding heart that he wore so proudly on his shoulder.

Every day, Davenport wanted to tell him to hide it. To keep it safe. Lock it away, so no one could snatch it from him, so no cruelty could shatter it. But he wouldn't be Magnus if that were the case. If he didn't experience this heartbreak so wholly, so intensely.

So Davenport hugged him instead.

Magnus melted in his arms with more weak sobs, tucking his face into Davenport's shoulder.

“It's not fair.” Magnus whimpered, and, sometimes, Davenport forgot. Forgot he had children on this ship- he had literal _children_ on this ship, what was the Institute _thinking_ , Magnus and Lucretia were _babies_ -

He squeezed him tightly, a fist curling in the back of Magnus' smokey hair.

“It'll be alright, Mags. It'll be alright.” Was all he could say.

Magnus went back to the ship.

Davenport buried the calf.

He saw Magnus in those scared, glassy eyes, saw the youth in charred sinew and flesh, and saw it all burned away in a moment.

He buried the calf, and returned to his family.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> parent death/sickness is discussed here.

Davenport couldn't sleep.

He wasn't great at sleeping at the best of times. He had a hard time turning his mind off and winding down, and then an even harder time staying asleep. He woke at every little noise, and then was usually up for a while after, if he ever got back to sleep.

But he found it especially impossible after the death of a crewmate.

The knowledge that they would be back at the end of the year was comforting, yes. But only slightly. He still had to see them die. And he still had the year to wonder- will this be the time they _don't_ come back?

And, he had the year to miss them.

With Merle gone, he always felt a little lost. Merle was his dear friend, and together he felt like a team that could corral their younger teammates. Although, he often had to corral Merle, too.

But, he was gone. For now. And Davenport would have to make do.

He padded into the kitchen, night vision allowing him to get by without flicking on a single light. But his keen ears told him someone was already up, a ball of light hovering over the kitchen table, faintly illuminating a journal and its keeper, Lucretia.

Her forehead was pressed into her hand, like it was the only thing holding her head up, as she wrote slowly. Davenport cleared his throat to announce his presence, and Lucretia jumped a little, shadowed eyes wide in surprise.

“Captain.” She straightened in her seat and nodded. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Would you like some tea?” He asked in turn, and Lucretia cracked a small smile.

“Ah, if you wouldn't mind.” He didn't, and began boiling water with amiable silence between them. He dolloped some honey into her mug once it was finished, and joined her at the table.

“Can't sleep, Captain?” She asked, thanking him softly for the tea and taking a long drink. Davenport wrapped his hands around the mug and enjoyed the warmth.

“Something like that. Too much on my mind.” He admitted. Lucretia blinked at him, her pen hand loosely in one hand still. “And you? Up late.” Her cheeks darkened at that. There were dark bags under her eyes, and Davenport worried idly.

“I suppose time got away from me.” She stared down at her journal, writing a bit more. “I just want to make sure I got everything down properly. Magnus and Taako were telling me about what happened on their trip out, but they had different stories, so I wrote them both down. Now I'm trying to figure out what the real story is.” Davenport chuckled at that, taking a sip of his tea.

“That sounds about right.” Silence again. Lucretia's pen scratched at the paper. Davenport took another drink of his tea.

“When I was younger, all I wanted to do was stay up late.” Lucretia murmured with a wry smile. “My mother and I, we came up with a whole routine to get me to sleep. It was so pointless. None of it really helped me, I don't think. And it probably took so much time out of her night. But she did it.” Her smile faltered for a moment, and she tucked her head a bit lower, writing.

“You just liked the time with her.” Davenport offered, and Lucretia blinked up at him in surprise. She tucked a loose strand of her tightly curled hair behind her ear and seemed to compose herself.

“I guess that was it.” She conceded. “She worked a lot. But I knew every night, she would help me sleep.”

“That's very sweet.” Davenport's tail swished from side to side. “She sounds like a good woman.”

“She was.” Lucretia nodded, head in her hand again, focus back on her journal. “What about your parents, Captain?” She seemed to be asking her paper, but glanced cautiously up at Davenport afterwards. “I'm sorry, that was out of-”

Davenport held up a hand to hush her and smiled. “Lucretia, I think we can do away with most formalities by now.” Lucretia nodded, smiling again, which relieved Davenport. She looked so content when she smiled. “My parents died when I was quite young. I didn't really have any other family.” He admitted. Lucretia looked at him, a note of sadness in her eyes.

“It was just me and my mom, mostly. I never really knew my father. But we were happy together.” She leaned back from her journal to swirl her tea in her mug. “Did you have anyone, Davenport?”

“Oh, certainly. Gnomes have a very tight culture.” Davenport felt a touch of embarrassment talking about his race. He wasn't exactly a stand-out example of a gnome. “I was raised by my village. But I didn't stay there long.”

“Naturally. Captain Davenport never stayed in one place for too much time.” Lucretia giggled softly, and Davenport grinned back at her.

“You got me. I set out adventuring as soon as I could. Gnomes... don't tend to do that.”

“Not from what I've read.” She mused. “They tend to stay out of the way, don't trouble themselves with other races. You're not a typical gnome, Captain. I hope you don't mind me saying that.”

“Not at all.” He didn't. It was the truth, and he didn't really dwell on it much anymore. He had found his place in the world, and he was content. Still, he figured he could get Lucretia to smile again. “What about you, Lucretia? Are you a typical human?” That made her blush again, and laugh awkwardly.

“I see what you mean.” Davenport chuckled. “Maybe I'm not. I know my mother would have been terrified to know I was going on this mission. Even before two months became... eternity.”

“She died? Before The Hunger?” He asked, distracted from his sip of tea. Lucretia was nodding, her weary eyes closed as she spoke.

“Yes. It was very sudden. One day she was fine... a headache. By the next month, she was hospitalized.” Lucretia drew in a long breath. “A couple weeks later, she was gone. A tumour.” Absently, Davenport realized, yes, he knew that. He had read their files, so long ago now.

He hadn't brought anyone on board with any significant family.

He sat a hand on her wrist, and Lucretia didn't open her eyes.

“I was only eighteen.”

“You're only twenty-one, now.” Davenport squeezed her wrist, and Lucretia finally dropped her pen to the table with a sigh, withdrawing her hand from Davenport's grip to rub her hands over her face.

“Closer to fifty now, no?” She asked playfully, a light smile on her lips when she looked at him again. “Besides, you chose me.”

“You were the best applicant in your field.” He told her confidently. “I begrudge the Institute for allowing such young entries but- I suppose I'd be without you if that were the case. And I'm much happier having you here.”

Lucretia's smile vanished as her mouth parted, a look of surprise crossing her face. She quickly raised her mug to her lips and averted her eyes, taking the longest sip Davenport thought he had ever seen. As though he may grow bored and wander away during the time of her drink, and she wouldn't have to react to what he said.

“I- Thank you, Captain.” She finally put her mug down and spoke. “That... means a lot.”

“It's the truth.” He said in turn. It was the truth. But he didn't say what he also meant behind those words. He didn't say anything about how he saw Lucretia as the daughter he'd never have. He didn't tell her how proud he was. He didn't say that some days he wished the entire crew had been swallowed along with their world, to spare them this gruelling, eternal fight.

“I think I'll try to sleep again.” He said instead.

“Oh, yes. Me too.” Lucretia closed her journal at that, taking her and Davenport's mugs to place in the sink. “Good night, Captain.” She hesitated in the door frame to look back at him, her soft orb of light following her.

“Good night, Lucretia.”

He held his unsaid words close to his heart, and watched Lucretia leave.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somewhat graphic descriptions of injury/death here.

Davenport heard the scream long before he saw the cause of it.

Wand drawn, teeth bared, he lunged back into the fray- he had _heard_ one of them, one of his own- but he had stumbled back from his own injury, a gash along his shoulder that rendered an arm useless-

The automatons were awful. Terrible, lurching creatures that had long since destroyed their creators, and dwindled on a dying planet, poisoned by their own fuel. They were so strong, with few weaknesses the crew had managed to find, and unmatched stamina.

They needed to get airborne, they needed to get _out_ of here-

Taako, _Taako_!

The elf was crushed in the tight grasp of the robot, body limp like a child's play thing, blood dripping from the metal fist.

“ _Taako_!” Lup snarled her brother's name and launched a fireball so large it nearly caught Davenport up in the blaze. He didn't have time to tell her to stop- what if Taako was still alive?- and the flames slammed into the robot, causing it to stumble down to one knee, but not loosening its grasp on Taako. “You fucker!” Lup was howling with rage, and surged towards the singed robot, flinging more spells towards it with reckless abandon.

“Lup!” Davenport shouted at the same time the robot reached out with its free hand- the flames seemed to do _nothing_ to it, scorching Taako's limp body more than anything- and grabbing Lup just as easily as it had grabbed her brother.

“ _Fuck_!” Barry glanced back from his own struggle with a bot, shooting a hopeless spell over his shoulder as Davenport struggled to cast, his spells weak from his injury and-

_Krr-unch_.

It was sick, sharp, and wet. Lup's struggles and flailing spells stopped in an instant, slumping forward in the machine's grasp.

“No, _no_!” Barry's attention was completely lost from his fight, whirling around, and _finally_ Davenport got a spell to breathe to life in his hands, and the shadows spun around him, higher and higher until they towered above the fight, forming into the shape of a massive dragon.

A glob of acid stopped the bot reaching for Barry in its tracks, arms melting off at the joints, jerking back and beginning to malfunction as the acid reached its mainframe. The dragon hurled more acid down at the bots, hitting the ones grasping the elves and causing it to drop their bodies and struggle backwards.

“Land the ship!” Davenport shouted into his stone. “Grab the twins!” He yelled to Barry, attempting to keep his focus on the illusionary dragon roiling above them. Barry, for his obvious grief, listened, hoisting the nearest one over his shoulder and levitating the other, grasping their hand and jogging away from the battlefield as the Starblaster came into view.

Davenport let his concentration dissipate once the ship landed, and darted after Barry, the sounds of the remaining bots whirring and grinding behind him as the dragon faded.

The instant he leaped on board, the ship shot into the air, causing him to grasp at the nearest railing and hold on for dear life.

The sound of the battlefield faded behind them, although Davenport couldn't get the elven screams and the crunch of Lup's spine out of his mind.

Merle was crouched over the twins' bodies, his face grim as he hovered glowing hands over them. Lucretia hurried in from the helm once the ship was stable and hidden in the air, and Barry collapsed against the wall, holding his side. Magnus crouched next to him, holding him steady.

“They're dead, Merle.” Davenport panted as Merle continued searching for any sign of life. “Help Barry.” The cleric continued for only a couple more seconds, his face falling as he finally dropped his hands.

Barry let out a strangled sob, grasping his leaking side and writhing. Magnus held him tight, minding his injuries as he did.

Merle passed his hands gently over Barry, until his whimpers and struggling slowed.

“Sleep.” The cleric murmured, and Barry went limp in Magnus' arms. “Cap'n, you're next.” Merle placed his hand on the deep gouge in Davenport's shoulder, and the gnome felt his skin stitch together slowly.

“I should have been there!” Magnus was moaning, lifting Barry and setting him on the couch. He hurried to wipe tears from his face. “I could have done something!”

“You can't _punch_ metal, Magnus.” Lucretia told him softly, bringing him in for a gentle hug.

“We aren't touching down for the rest of this cycle.” Davenport told them, wincing at a particularly jagged cut that Merle healed. “No one leaves the ship.” Nobody argued.

“What about the twins?” Merle asked, pulling his hands away. Davenport rolled his shoulder experimentally, and nodded to his cleric in thanks, before getting down low and inspecting the twins.

Dead, no doubt. For a fleeting second, he had panicked, thinking he had wrongly ordered Merle away. But they had been killed the instant the bot closed its rock hard hands around them. Spines crumpled and pelvises crushed, frail ribs shattered and concave.

Lup still had her furious expression engraved into her face, and Davenport gently smoothed it out. It was almost better this way. They were inevitably miserable when either died during a cycle, like half of them had died too. Now they would just leave the rest of their family wanting.

“I'll deal with the twins. Lucretia, stay at the helm and keep watch. I don't want any surprise attacks if it turns out these things can fly or strike remotely.” Lucretia nodded, her eyes wet but face clean. Magnus had leaned against the wall and was wiping his face with great sniffs. “Merle, keep and eye on Barry until he wakes up. Magnus-” He hesitated. “Magnus, I want you on comms. See if you can't pick anything up.” The man's expression twisted and he huffed.

“Got it, Cap'n'port.” He mumbled. It was Taako's job, and Davenport felt bad giving it to him. But he didn't have a choice.

“You rest once you get back, Dav.” Merle told him as Lucretia and Magnus filed away. “You were hurt, too.”

“I'm fine, Merle. Thank you.” He assured him as he levitated the twins' bodies and guided them out of the ship and towards the deck.

He hated doing this. Burial rights had become rather unimportant over the years, especially to the twins, who had been flippant over it from the start. But it still bothered him.

“I'm sorry. I failed you.” Davenport told them, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I'll see you soon.” He took a breath, and dropped their bodies off the edge of the ship.

He didn't watch them fall, and returned to Merle and Barry in the common room.

He sunk into the couch at Barry's feet, and felt exhaustion wash over him. Merle eyed him like he might cast another sleep spell on him, but there was no need, and Davenport quickly succumbed to the darkness.

When he woke, the common room was dark and empty, save for Barry next to him, who was shifting uncomfortably, breathing shaky. Outside, the sky was thickly overcast, as it usually was here, but it was clearly night.

Davenport righted himself, rubbing his eyes and looking over his science officer. Barry's face was twitching in his magic-induced sleep, obviously starting to rouse from it. Davenport put a hand on his knee, and Barry gasped awake with a hoarse yell.

“Lup! Taako-!” He scrambled to sit up, and Davenport gripped his shoulders tightly.

“Easy, Bluejeans, easy!” He settled him, forcing him to lay back against the couch, trying to steady his breathing. It was coming in short, strained gasps, a famed Bluejeans anxiety attack that would come swiftly before or after any crazy event. Thank gods not during.

“Oh, _god, fuck_ -” He began to groan once he could breathe again, running a hand through his hair and gripping tight enough to rip some out. Davenport eased his hand off his scalp, rubbing his thumbs along the man's palms. “Her _back_ -”

“It's okay. They're dead. They aren't suffering.” He told him softly. It seemed to ease him a little, his eyes fluttering open, a few tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Captain? Are you- are you okay?” Barry slipped his hands away from Davenport's to press a few hesitant fingers to the tear in the gnome's uniform along his shoulder and collarbone. At the thought, Davenport snapped his fingers and illuminated the common room with a small ball of light. Barry blinked, adjusting his human eyes to the light.

“I'm fine, Barry. How are you feeling?” Davenport leaned back to give the man space to breathe and take himself in. He did, feeling his side, the jagged tear in his shirt, the scarred skin underneath, and taking in a few deep, deep breaths.

“I'm okay.” He sounded like he was telling himself. “I'm... I guess I'm okay. I... fuck...” He leaned forward to rest his head in his arms, shoulders shaking lightly. “That was... so awful...” His voice was strained and tight, and Davenport put a comforting hand on his shoulder, rubbing slow circles. “I should have- I should have done something, should have been paying closer attention-”

“You can't blame yourself.” Davenport told him, giving a tug on his shoulder so he would sit up. “Under no circumstances. If anyone is to blame, it's me. I'm your captain, I'm responsible for you all.” He gave him an affirming squeeze, staring him hard in the eye.

Davenport kept each of their deaths just in the back of his mind, always. Each time was a reminder of his failure to keep his crew- his _family_ \- safe. He could still hear the wet crunch of bone, and his ears flattened instinctively.

Barry scrubbed his tears away under his glasses and sighed, leaning back against the couch and staring at the ceiling.

“Now what am I supposed to do?” He murmured, barely audible.

Davenport gently slumped against him, letting out a low sigh.

Barry Bluejeans-

Sildar Hallwinter was what was written on his application, “It's a family name.” He had said. “Call me Barry.” The twins had supplied the surname,

\- was probably the next most level-headed person on this ship besides Davenport. Lucretia's youth sometimes got the better of her, and she struggled to see the big picture. Barry was consistent, dependable.

Barry was Davenport's trusted science officer, someone he relied on to solve problems when they arose, and he sounded completely defeated.

“I guess we won't be finding The Light here.” Barry continued, his voice hard, rougher than normal.

“Not unless it comes to us.” Davenport grunted.

“Good.” The human spoke with grit teeth. “I hope this world burns.”

Davenport could only hum in response at first. It was out of character, but he understood how he was feeling. If he could, the captain would tear every last robot on this forsaken planet apart himself. But heightened emotions got you nowhere in a place like this. It was what got Lup killed in the first place, after all.

“I trust you not to do anything stupid.” Davenport said, and Barry stiffened against him.

“Lup would kill me if I did something like that.” He grumbled. “As much as I may want to.” He clenched his fists on his legs. “Why- _both_ of them... both.”

“I know you're close with them.” That was an understatement, but Barry mercifully let him continue without a word. “But we're still here. You still have us.”

Barry blinked, his face untwisting for a moment, and he let out a tense breath.

“Of course. Yeah of-” A shaky laugh. “Gods. I'm an idiot. They'll... they'll be back.” Davenport perked up a little, his ears lifting, and he nodded. “And I'm gonna kick Lup's _ass_ for being so reckless.”

“We both will.” They chuckled lightly, together.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,  
> The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,  
> The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
> 
> \- Walt Whitman, "O Captain! My Captain!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings :) thank you for reading!

Davenport hadn't planned on laying down. There was a lot to be done. Even with his memories and functions returned, he didn't have time to reminisce on it. He had looked into the changed faces of his family, and only had time to weep with joy at the end of their long, long mission.

His original mission was over, but there was more to be done.

Restorative efforts, relief aid, helping the world they had a hand in destroying, rebuild.

But Davenport was, admittedly, tired. He felt like he had been going non-stop for the last ten years.

So when he walked through the Starblaster common room and saw a perfect pool of sunlight streaming across the floor, he couldn't help himself. He pulled a wool blanket down from the couch, and a few cushions, settling down in the sunbeam with a content grunt.

He would rest here for just a few minutes, he thought. He wasn't one to curl up in the sun like this- that was for elves, he thought. But it was so pleasant and warm, and Davenport was just so _tired_. He felt like he could sleep for another year.

But just a few minutes, he reminded himself. A few minutes.

He wasn't sure how much longer than “a few minutes” he had been laying there when he felt himself being shifted bodily. Cracking open an eyelid, he saw Lup, fresh in her new body, worming her way under his arm and pressing her nose into his side, purring absurdly loud. Taako was right behind her, strapping his arms around them both and snuggling close to his sister, his purr rougher and softer, lack of use, but still apparent.

The purring rumbled Davenport's whole core, and his tail swished from side to side before curling around the twins' legs.

Thumping footsteps rattled the floor, and then Magnus was dropping down on Davenport's other side with a grunt, throwing his arm haphazardly around the gnome and dozing elves and resting his head on Davenport's chest.

The weight was so familiar, so warm, and so good. Davenport wriggled an arm out, pressed to his side by Magnus' shoulder, and laid it over the human's back instead.

Barry puttered in not long after, resting comfortably against Taako and Lup's legs, settling with a content sigh. And when Merle threw himself over Magnus' lap, legs laying over the gnome, Davenport was almost asleep again. But there was a niggling problem in the back of his mind, something amiss, something wrong.

When he blinked his eyes open, almost overwhelmed by the cacophony of purrs and snores, he saw her, watching from the door frame with intense longing.

Davenport managed to have the energy to flick his tail, beckoning. Lucretia hesitated, a multitude of emotions crossing her face. He flicked his tail again, more firm, hoping his authority got across in the admittedly, less-than-authoritative gesture. She obeyed at that, though her movement was slow, picking around the pile until she curled up near Davenport's head, their foreheads nearly touching.

Davenport lifted his arm lightly from where it was curled around Lup's head, and placed a hand on Lucretia's cheek, pulling her just a bit so their heads touched. He heard her shaking breath, and rubbed his thumb along the wetness on her cheek.

Lup's purr stuttered, and she shifted under Davenport, pushing back and back as Taako fussed and Barry complied, until there was space between her and her captain. She did it all with her eyes closed, and began to paw upward, grasping Lucretia's shirt and tugging lightly when she found purchase.

Lucretia hesitated, again, but slid between them meekly, shoulders shaking as Lup wrapped her arms around her with a content “mrrp”. Lucretia curled her arms against her chest and pressed her face into Davenport's hair, her sniffles soft in his ear. Davenport rested his arm along her neck, curling to rub his knuckles on her cheek.

“Dav-” Lucretia began, barely more than a whisper, and Davenport hushed her with a sleepy grunt.

Nothing needed to be said right now.

He soothed her until her breathing evened and she was asleep too, fingers uncurling and limp. At ease, for just a moment.

Davenport laid there, in the not-quiet, in the not-stillness, his family breathing around him, finally safe.

For most of his youth, Davenport had spent his time fighting to earn a place in the world. His adulthood was dedicated to his mission, planning and training and organizing. He worked tirelessly because he thought it would leave him content. He thought rising through the ranks and earning the respect of those around him would leave him without wanting.

For one hundred long, long years, he almost was there. He had _something_. Those moments- early, warm kitchens and late talks in the common room, and open, hot tears and a want, a _need_ to beat this, to make _them_ safe. It was within his grasp, if he would just _take_ it.

And for ten years, a yawning emptiness, half-thoughts and forcibly taken words, an indescribable blankness where he had forgotten everything- every _one_ \- he ever held dear. A shell of a man, of a fool captain who thought himself above love and family. Moments of clarity, briefly unburdened by static, where he could think for just a moment about something he had lost, something that if he could get it again, he would grip tight and never let go.

“I love you all.” He murmured.

For the first time in his life, Davenport was, truly, happy. When he woke, there would be more to deal with. When he woke, there were things to be done, discussions to be had, wounds to heal. But for now?

Davenport was whole.

 


End file.
